Fighting to Stay in Love
by Dara Tavar
Summary: Part 2! Reba and Brock have been seeing one another secretly for six months now..but what happens when someone who they thought was out of their lives comes back without warning, wanting what used to be? A perfect night turns into a nightmare when they fight over the situation...and now someone else in the household discovers their relationship. Can they last through this reminder?


**I know that this sequel has been a long time coming (Part 2, folling _Falling Back in Love_) but I had a serious case of writer's block for the longest time halfway into this. I had no idea where to go, but I am happy to say that the problem has been fixed and here it is!-and it's longer than Part 1. Just so you all know, I'm already hard at work on Part 3, which I'm already a good deal of the way into, and hopefully will be posting in not too long! :D I haven't decided if there will be a Part 4, depends on how I end the next one, but there is potential for a 'spin-off' with it.**

**Okay, I've made you wait _much_ too long, so I'll let you get to it. Just leave me a review and let me know what you think and if a part 3 will be worth it (which I how so, cause the part I'm writing right now is a lot of fun to work on, and I think it will be a lot of fun for you all to read). But anyways... Enjoy!**

**DT**

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**Fighting to Stay in Love**

Brock held Reba in his arms, smiling into her soft hair. One hand rested on the small of her back, holding her against him, and the other clasped hers tightly as they danced along to the slow song the band on stage was playing. Her hand rested on his shoulder, her cheek pressed against his chest as she held on to him. He didn't have to look at her to know her eyes would be closed, a slight curl to her lips, as she let the music move her. He only wished the song would never end and she never left his arms.

It had been about six months since the night she'd sat with him in his condo, comforting him over his divorce, and he'd come to the realization that he'd never once stopped loving her. She had yet to tell him that she loved him, but something told him that it wasn't going to take her much longer.

She'd practically been living in his condo, always telling the kids how it was easier on him not to be there alone and that the nights were always worse than the days. Henry was home again most days and nights, except for when he fell asleep at the house or wanted to have a sleepover with Elizabeth. The other kids never stayed at the condo with him though, thinking it was a time he needed to himself because he was still trying to get through everything.

Cheyenne had recently commented on how he was looking so much better than before, and he'd smiled at Reba, telling their daughter that he'd had a wonderful person helping him.

He and Reba had decided not to tell the kids about them for a while. And, while they hadn't spoken the words out loud, he knew they were waiting for the day that he finally won her over completely and none of the fear she'd held about telling him those three words was still there.

He'd regularly been taking her out on dates. If they weren't at the movies together, they were at a nice restaurant or various other places. Tonight he'd brought her to a restaurant they'd once gone to when they were dating, a place he knew she'd always loved, and the exact place where they'd first told one another they loved each other.

Tables sat in dim lighting, holding burning candles to give off a more romantic mood, and were secluded enough that people could carry on private conversations. In the center of the large room though, there was a wooden dance floor, with slightly brighter lighting than at the tables. And in a remembrance of old times, the stage was always housed by a band that played old-time country songs and had no electric instruments or sound system.

The song ended and Reba lifted her head to smile up at Brock before they both looked to the stage to watch as the singer moved to sit down, picking up a bottle of water. As he did so, the pianist leaned in toward his microphone and said, "This song is entitled '_Alone_,' and it's by Thomas Smith. This is for all those out there who find that the music can sometimes speak louder than the lyrics." Even as he spoke, his fingers moved across the keys gracefully, beginning the song.

He played alone for only a moment or two before the bass guitarist stepped forward, holding a violin, and began to play the melody of the song. The music slowly coursed through the room, wrapping its way around couples on the dance floor, moving them to its beautiful sound, moving through those still sitting, calling some of them to the dance floor, like a siren calls to ships on the sea.

Brock watched Reba's face, drawn to the music because of the way it swept over her, causing her to catch her breath, her eyes slipping closed as she allowed it to wash over her, through her. She was his siren, drawing him closer. But there would be no treacherous Cliffside at the end of his journey, only his siren with her open arms and sweet smile.

She had always loved the way a piano and violin sounded together, the way their voices melded, mixing so perfectly, the piano a strong and gentle beat to steady the smooth, flowing melodies of the violin.

Brock thought of the ways she'd described how these two instruments sounded together, and couldn't help but think it also described he and Reba. He was the piano, the gentle beat in the background, the harmony, while she was the violin, the melody that brought out the beauty in the song. Without the melody, the harmony is lifeless. But without the harmony, the melody is lost with nothing to hold on to. They were the same way. Without Reba, Brock had been an empty shell, void of life and love. And Reba, without him, had been lost in a world where she didn't know what to do. They were perfect together.

Just as the piano and violin could be pared with other instruments to make beautiful music, so could he and Reba, Brock supposed, though it was a thought that brought an ache to his chest. But, just as with the piano and violin, no other instrument could sound more beautiful than those two together. This also described him and Reba. They could be with other people, but nothing would be the same, nothing would be as perfect, if they weren't together.

He'd learned this while with BJ. They'd been good together and had created Henry, who Brock loved dearly and would never wish to give up…but he and BJ weren't perfect together, because Reba was his other half.

This was where he belonged.

As if she knew he was thinking about her, those green eyes turned his way and a soft smile curved her lips. Holding her closer, Brock began to sway to the music, the two of them moving as if they were one, lost in their own world.

This was how it was supposed to be. And this was how it was with no one but her. Only with Reba could Brock lose himself so completely, become so lost in her eyes that everything else in the world stopped existing. The only other thing in their world was the music that wrapped around them, seeming to hold them together.

They'd been very careful not to kiss in public, because they'd not wanted anyone they knew to see them and risk their children finding out before they could tell them anything. But right now, so consumed by one another, they didn't care who saw. Their lips found one another in a gentle kiss.

Soon though, the song ended and they returned to their table to finish their drinks.

Reba held her glass by the long stem, watching Brock with a smile. When he laid his hand out on the table, palm up, she didn't hesitate in sliding hers into it, wanting to have some contact with him. She'd been trying to decide when to tell him that she loved him for the past week, but hadn't done it. She would tonight though. She also wanted them to tell the kids tonight. She just didn't know what she wanted to confess to first.

He watched her as well, his eyes traveling down over the dress she wore. It was midnight blue and had a subtle shine to it. The dress clung to her upper body in all the right ways, but when it reached her hips it was no longer so tight, so it spun around her and would flare out around her waist when she danced. It was a dress she'd not worn in many years, and one that always made him want to take her straight to the bedroom.

"Brock," she began, sitting her glass down.

She didn't have to say anything more for him to know she was ready to leave. He just knew. Maybe it was because of the way she was looking at him, or the way she was drawing circles on the back of his hand, but he would have liked to think it was because they were once more in so tune with one another that they just knew what the other was thinking.

He got to his feet and held his hand out for her, lifting hers up to press a kiss to the back of her hand when she gave it to him. With their fingers entwined like they'd done while dating, they left and got in his car. The whole way back, he clasped her hand in his as if she were just an extension of himself. The only time they weren't holding hands was when they got out of the car at her house.

They walked onto the porch and he started towards the door, but Reba pulled him to a stop. When Brock turned to give her a questioning look, wondering what she had stopped him for, she gave him a smile and pulled him towards the swing. When he sat down at her side, she immediately moved closer and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Brock, I was us to tell the kids about us tonight," she said, looking out from under the roof so she could stare up at the stars. "And then, you and I will go back to the condo because we have an awful lot to discuss if we're going to be open about this relationship…not just with the kids, but with everyone."

Brock pressed a kiss to the top of her head, sliding his arms around her as he smiled into her hair. "Nothing would make me happier, sweetheart," he whispered to her.

They sat on the porch in silence for a few minutes, content just to hold one another and stare up at the stars, but they knew they needed to go inside soon before one of the kids happened to see them. The night had been magical, just as it had been when they'd first been dating. So many things had changed since then, but being in the place where they'd first confessed their love had reminded them of what it was like to love so deeply, the way they had before. And it looked like they'd finally gotten that deep, everlasting love back.

Reba looked at Brock as he stood up and smiled at him. "Would you go ahead in and call the kids down? I just need to think about something for a second and I'll be in."

"You sure you don't want me to stay out here with you?" he asked, uncertain if he wanted to leave her alone or do as she asked. When she nodded, he stepped closer and crouched before her, reaching out to hold on to her waist. "You're not having second thought about us, are you?" he asked, just to be certain.

She let out a small laugh, leaning forward and taking his face in her hands so she could kiss him. "Never," she whispered as she pulled back.

Satisfied, Brock got to his feet and brushed his knuckles across her cheek before he moved to the door, twisting the unlocked knob and stepping inside, but he left the door open for when she came in too. "Kids, can you come down here? You're mother and I need to tell you something," she heard him calling, presumably up the stairs to where the children would be, from where she still sat outside, thinking things through.

After they told the kids, they would go back to his condo and there, while they were over there, that's when she would tell him that she loved him. She turned to look at the door where he'd disappeared through and smiled. "I love you, Brock," she whispered the words. Just saying them out loud, no longer suppressing them, made her heart skip a beat. She almost couldn't imagine how good it was going to feel to finally say the words to him, instead of just burying them.

"What the—" he cried out.

Reba's smiled dropped from her face, her eyes widening when Brock's voice suddenly cut off on his outcry. "Brock!" she called out, jumping to her feet and rushing inside as fast as she could. She came to a skidding halt just inside the doorway though; shock freezing her in her tracks before that melted away and her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. There, in her living room, was Barbara Jean. It wouldn't have been so heartbreaking to see the other woman…if she weren't currently in Brock's arms, kissing him, that is.

Cheyenne came rushing into the room from where she'd been in the kitchen, grinning like crazy. She shut the door behind her mother before turning to look at her father and BJ. Without looking at Reba's face, she began talking excitedly. "I can't believe this! Dad must be _so_ happy right now! He's been so upset over all of this, and I know he's been saying lately that everything is getting better, but imagine how much happier he'll be now that Barbara Jean is back! He has got to be excited."

"When did Barbara Jean get here?" Reba asked, fighting to control herself.

"She got here around an hour ago, maybe…on second thought, it probably wasn't that long ago. She said she'd stopped by the condo, but Dad wasn't there, so she'd come here looking for him. When I explained that the two of you went out because he's been so upset over everything that you have been constantly keeping him company to keep him mind off her not being here, BJ wanted to go looking for the two of you immediately. I told her that it would be better if she stayed here and saw Henry for a while, and she was just about ready to take him and find the two of you when the door opened and Dad came in calling for us," she explained, grinning like mad as she just continued to watch the couple before them.

Van walked up beside them, a bit confused over everything. Cheyenne was obviously excited about all of this, but Mrs. H. wasn't. He studied her face for a moment, trying to figure out what it was that was off about her expression when he finally realized what it was. She looked like she was in pain.

Reba fought to keep herself together, holding back the tears that wanted to break free, because she didn't want her daughter to see them. Also, she didn't want Brock or Barbara Jean to.

Brock stood there in shock as BJ kissed him before finally breaking free of her hold. "Barbara Jean?" he questioned in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was so stupid, Brock!" she cried out, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on to him. He instinctively settled his hands on her waist to help steady her so she wouldn't knock them both over, still too shocked to know what else to do. "I should never have left you or gotten the divorce. It was the worst thing I could have ever done. I'm not meant to be in Little Rock, I'm meant to be here with you and Henry." She lifted her head from where she'd laid it on his shoulder, staring at him through tear filled eyes. "You're my husband, Brock, and my place is at your side. I don't belong anywhere else. I came here to beg you to take me back. And when I got here, Cheyenne told me how you've been a wreck so I knew, just knew, coming back was the right thing to do. Oh, baby, I've missed you so much!" she swore, leaning in to kiss him again.

Brock didn't want to hurt her by completely pulling away from her, but he also didn't really want to be kissing her. He managed to pull back from her kiss though, so he could talk to her. "So, what? I'm just supposed to take you back after you left and divorced me?" he questioned. He wasn't going to do it, but he was just confused by her. She'd clearly told him she didn't love him anymore and that everything had been a mistake, but here she was, swearing to the complete opposite. "You can't just expect that, Barbara Jean!"

"But, Dad, she's back!" Cheyenne cried in confusion, moving forward and gesturing to Barbara Jean. "Isn't that all the matters? You missed her like crazy, and now she's come home to you. If you love her, isn't that all that matters?"

"Cheyenne," Brock began.

"That's not how it works, Cheyenne," Barbara Jean said, cutting Brock off. She loosened her hold on Brock, but didn't let go of him completely. "I've hurt your dad, and I'm going to have to make it all up to him now. But don't you worry," she said, turning to look him with a smile. "I will make everything up to you. Because I love you, Brock…and I know that you still love me, even if you're afraid of that."

"Barbara Jean," he started, uncertain of what to say.

"Not here," she interrupted, pressing her fingers to his lips as she smiled at him again. "Let's talk at home. Just the two of us. I promise you, we're going to work everything out and we're going to all be one big, happy family again." With that said, she gave him another hard kiss and released him.

"Reba! I've missed you so much!" she cried out, rushing towards the smaller woman and grabbing her in a tight hug. Just as she did it, Reba reached out to grab Van's hand, since he was standing at her side, and squeezed it so hard he cried out in pain. But she'd needed to do something so she wouldn't immediately hit the tall woman who'd just waltzed in and stole her man—again.

Barbara Jean turned back to Brock, smiling widely. "Cheyenne and Van said they would watch Henry so that we can go back home and work everything out." She said the last part with a suggestive tone to her voice, winking at him before turning to nudge Reba. "If you know what I mean by that," she told the other woman quietly with a laugh.

Reba never replied, but only squeezed Van's hand again as she ground her teeth together to keep from snapping out something in front of her eldest daughter and son-in-law that she'd be embarrassed about later. Van let out a small sound of pain, but pressed his lips closed to muffle it in the hopes that no one would hear him.

On another laugh, Barbara Jean opened the door and moved outside, poking her head back in to send a smile Brock's way. "Come on, honey! We've got a lot of making up to do tonight."

Reba wanted to turn around and slam the door on the woman's head, but she refrained by keeping her hold on Van. Right now, he was her lifeline, whether he knew it or not. She knew that, if she released him, she would do something she might regret…either to Barbara Jean, or to Brock.

Cheyenne ran from the room, gushing happily to herself about how she needed to tell Kyra and Jake about how everything was going to get better and soon everyone was going to be happy and things would go back to normal. She stopped around the top of their stairs though to send a grin her mother's way. "Just look on the bright side, Mom, you won't have to keep Dad company all the time and you'll finally get to sleep at home again," she said before rushing out of view and down the hall.

Brock slowly moved in Reba's direction, wary as he noted the look on her face. She was staring at the wall, refusing to look at him, and he could tell her jaw was clenched. But, other than that, her face was composed…which he knew very well meant she was on the edge inside and would lose it at any minute. "Van, could you give Reba and me a minute alone to talk?" he asked, glancing at his son-in-law.

Van glanced down at Reba's face, uncertain of what to do. She didn't look back at him, but her grip tightened on his hand slightly. It wasn't enough to hurt him, like before, but it was enough pressure that told him she needed him there without actually saying the words out loud. "Look, Mr. H, I respect you and would normally do pretty much anything you asked me to, but I have to tell you no this time," he told the older man in a gentle but firm voice. He didn't want to upset his father-in-law, but he also didn't want him to say anything else about him leaving. Van wasn't going anywhere so long as his mother-in-law needed him. The woman had been like a real mother to his for years now, and while he respected Brock and thought of him as a father, he loved Reba and really would do anything for her.

Brock glanced down to see that Reba was clutching Van's hand and realized how she was depending on him. It hurt him to see this, because not long ago if something had happened, something other than this, it would have been his hand she were clutching like that, as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

Once more, without meaning what he was doing, he'd hurt her. He hated himself for it to, because he knew how close they had been to finally getting through this. And now she'd never been farther away from him, maybe not physically, but she had emotionally withdrawn from him and into herself. She'd closed him out and it broke his heart.

"Reba," he began, not sure how to tell her that nothing was going to make him take BJ back, that nothing the other woman said or did would make him turn from her…because he knew that, anything he said, she wouldn't believe. Her heart would be breaking all over again right now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. All she would be thinking about was how this happened before, are her expectations would be for him to do it all over again.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…" she whispered in response. "I think you should go, Brock. Barbara Jean is waiting for you," she spat the name out as if it were the dirtiest word she knew. It was the only way she truly showed him how she felt, because her face twisted with anger and pain as she said it before she quickly schooled her features again.

Brock sighed, looking towards the door. It seemed that he'd just lost what meant most to him for the second time in his life. Could he never get things right when it came to her? He turned his eyes back to her face, though she still refused to look at him. "I'm not fooling you this time, Reba. Nothing has changed from before we came into this house. Not since that first night in my condo till this moment, standing right here. Not a thing has changed," he swore to her.

Reba nodded slowly, finally turning her eyes to meet his. "Tell me that in the morning after your long night of _making up_ with Barbara Jean."

Brock couldn't help glaring at her. He knew she was hurt over this, but she was hurting him too by immediately expecting him to screw everything up again and not giving him the chance to even defend himself. "Reba, you know how I feel concerning her and you. _Nothing has changed_," he told her before leaning closer to her and lowering his voice so he could continue. "And no matter what she tries to say or do, there will be no long night of making up, because I've learned my lesson. I'm not screwing _this_ up again." He gestured between the two of them as he said it.

"You say that now. But you did it once, Brock. And you know the saying about old dogs…they can't learn new tricks," she told him in an irritated voice, just like the one he'd used.

"Stop throwing your silly old sayings as me," he snapped. "I am not a dog. But if we're going to be throwing them around, I'd like to throw that one right back at you, because you're never going to stop getting suspicious of me, are you? You're never just going to trust me, because you're always going to assume that I'm going to do the same thing I did in the past."

"I think you should go," she said, glaring at him still.

"Fine. Since you clearly won't listen to anything!" he cried, moving to the door. But as the cool air from outside hit him, his anger vanished and the knowledge of what he was walking away from washed over him again. This was happening exactly the same way it had the first night he'd gone to Barbara Jean. His eyes slid closed at the thought, pain washing over him, and he couldn't stop himself from asking one more question. "You were going to tell me tonight, weren't you? After all these months, you were finally going to tell me," he whispered without turning around. He knew she would hear him.

She didn't say anything, didn't even turn around to look at him. She just held on to Van tighter, hoping to steal some of his strength. She wasn't going to give in this time.

"Please, Reba," he pleaded, finally turning to look in her direction, but she refused to look back at him. She only stared straight ahead. "Just answer me, please. I need to know."

Her lip quivered as a small piece of her armor cracked. She needed him to leave, needed to be left alone, so she could break down. And the only way he would leave would be if she answered him. "I guess we'll never know now that it's all over." She felt his eyes burning into her, could almost hear his begging for an answer in her head. So, in such a soft voice that he almost didn't hear her, she whispered, "Yes. But now it's over."

Brock didn't say anything else, just quietly slipped from the house and pulled the door closed behind him. But his words from before still filled her ears…nothing has changed. She only wondered if that was true, either with them or with how his choices would be concerning Barbara Jean.

Reba finally released Van's hand, grasping the banister and began her way upstairs. Van called after her quietly, uncertainty and worry in his voice, so she stopped but didn't look at him. "I'll be alright, Van. I just need to go change. I'm just shocked at seeing her again, that's all."

"That's not all, Mrs. H," he replied, watching her. "You and Mr.…" he trailed off before steeling himself to ask. He never really called either of his in-laws by their first names, but he was going to right now so she would know just how serious he was and just how much he expected an answer. "Reba, were you and Brock involved again?" he asked quietly, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

Reba trembled a little, a tear slipping down her cheek. "What Brock and I had is gone. He has Barbara Jean again now…I just need to wrap my head around that," she told him very quietly though she didn't make a move to continue upstairs once again.

Van remained quiet too for a moment. "Do you still love him?" he asked.

"I always will," she replied immediately before starting upstairs again and heading for her room.

Once there, Reba took off the dress and lingerie she was wearing, putting on more comfortable underclothes, a baggy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She hid the other clothes out of sight before going to the bathroom and washing her face and hands, before just standing there and staring at herself in the mirror.

Who was she kidding? She didn't stand a chance against Barbra Jean. She was short with too red hair, freckled skin and the start of wrinkles. BJ was tall and leggy with a still-young face and that peppy energy that seemed to bring out something in Brock. When comparing them, Reba found herself coming up short every time, certain that she could never hold a candle to the other woman.

She'd just walked back out of the bathroom to stand at her bed again when there came a tentative knock on the door. She moved over and opened it to find Van standing there with a bag in hand, looking like he wanted to help but uncertain of how to do it.

"I thought you might need something," he told her gently, holding out the bag for her to take. "I know that if I were going through what you are with Mr. H over Cheyenne…I might need something to help me get through it."

Reba took the bag from him and moved to her bed, allowing Van to enter as well. She sat down, pulling a pillow onto her lap and curling one arm around it as she opened the bag and took the bottle of whisky from it. The receipt was still in it, and the date on it was from tonight. So he'd just gone to get this, for her. She sent him the best smile she could muster. "Thank you, Van…but I really shouldn't…"

"Forget about it, Mrs. H," he told her, pushing the door closed and moving over to sit beside her. "You need to stop worrying so much about everyone else. I promise you, Cheyenne and I will take care of the kids. You just concentrate on yourself right now and know that you have that liquid courage right there if you need it. And if you ever need anything else, I'm right here to help you. Since everything with my parents…you're like a mother to me, and I hate to see you hurting."

Reba sent Van a smile, warmed by his words, before turning to stare down at the bottle for a minute more before slowly twisting off the cap. She pulled off the cap and took a breath, the bitter scent of whisky filling her nostrils. Sighing, she tightened the cap once again and sat the bottle aside on her bedside stand. "Maybe later," she told him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked slowly, not wanting to push her too much, but feeling like he should at least ask. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but you shouldn't bottle things up. You need to talk to someone, and I don't think you'd want to talk to any of your kids about you and Mr. H like that…"

She thought about it for a moment. If she didn't talk to Van, who else would she talk to about it? Sighing, she clutched the pillow to her and decided to go ahead and tell him. "Make yourself comfortable, it's a bit of a long story…."

Van nodded and sat back, waiting for her to begin.

"It started when Barbara Jean left Brock, the first night I stayed over there. I just wanted to be there for him, because I hated to see him hurting. I'll always love him, and I want him to be happy, even if that means he's never with me…but we were drinking and, well…uh, anyways, the next morning we woke up in bed together. We talked about what had happened that night, or really that morning...I thought he would hate me over it, but he didn't. He said he'd missed me and hadn't been upset about BJ, but because he had realized what he'd put me through when he left me. He swore that he never really loved her but had just felt like he was doing the right thing. He said that he'd always loved me, but felt like he'd screwed things up too badly and there would be no way to fix it, that's why he asked for a divorce and then married Barbra Jean, because he felt that he had to. But he said he wanted me back and that he would make everything up to me." Tears filled her eyes as she talked, but she ignored them and kept going.

She told him about how they'd been seeing each other since then, but had decided not to tell him or the kids anything because they'd wanted some time just for them, so they could get used to being together again. And because Brock had said he was going to make everything up to her. So, they'd gone on dates and he'd been romantic and caring, the way he'd been back before their marriage had fallen apart and he'd gone to BJ the first time.

"We were going to tell you kids about us tonight, and I was finally going to tell him that I love him," she got out in a tearful voice, clinging to the pillow as she stared down at the bed. "But now Barbara Jean is back and I've driven him away. Just like before. I made him leave and probably forced him back into her arms all over again…but I saw him tonight, Van. He didn't stop her from kissing him, and he held her when she was down there. It's happening all over again."

Van stared at her tear streaked face, not sure what to say to her. Silently, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her against him. When he did this, it was as if the last of her strength slid from her and she lost it, completely breaking down as the pain overwhelmed her. She clung to Van as she cried, her heart breaking in her chest.

"Hey, everything's going to be okay," he told her soothingly. He thought back to when he'd been at the door with only Reba and Brock, after everyone else had left. "I'm not so sure everything is over between you and Mr. H. He said nothing had changed from before, when it had just been the two of you. Or with his feelings for you and BJ. He told you he wasn't going to mess things up between you two," he said, hoping it would make her feel better.

"He doesn't have to mess it all up, I already did," she replied, burying her face in the pillow. "I drove him away. I forced him to leave because I was hurt and wanted to strike out at him. If only I had just told him how I feel, let him talk to me, everything may have been okay…but now he's with her and upset, and the last time we were in these circumstances, she ended up getting pregnant. I've ruined everything."

"No you haven't Mrs. H. You'll see in the morning, everything will turn out okay," he was at a loss of how to make her feel better. He'd never really had to deal with a heartbroken woman before, and had no idea about what to do. He knew Cheyenne might be able to help, but he also knew Reba wouldn't want to drag her into this, so he was on his own.

Reba remained quiet for a long time, just letting Van comfort her silently. Her eyes rested on the bottle he'd brought her and she wondered if she should drink any of it. Sure, it would send her into that blissful world of unconsciousness if she drank enough, but then she would have to deal with the after effects in the morning…much like with Brock. She'd been in that blissful state of drunkenness over having him back for months, but now she'd been forced to wake up and was going to have to deal with the hangover of not having him.

"You'll see, everything will be better in the morning," he told her quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slowly pulling his arms from around her. He got to his feet and stared down at her with a troubled, worried expression. "Just think things through, Mrs. H. There's no one here to tell you what to think or feel, no one who's going to sway your judgment. Just think about it all, decide if you want to end it all now or try and fix things. And whatever you decide, just know that I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Van," she whispered, looking up at him. "You're the best son-in-law that a person could ask for. I'm glad Cheyenne married you." She smiled, a real smile because her words were true, but it didn't last very long.

Van smiled a little in return and gave a slight nod. "You're family, Mrs. H. There's no one in the world that I'd rather have as a mother-in-law than you." He shifted on his feet, his cheeks turning a light pink because he wasn't used to being so emotional with her. "You should get some sleep soon. Goodnight," he murmured quietly before turning and moving to the door.

"Goodnight," she replied quietly, watching as he closed the door behind him and she was left alone.

As thoughts of what had happened in the living room tonight, of everything that Brock and Van had said to her, swirled in her head, Reba began to feel sick to her stomach. What if Van was right? What if she could fix things between her and Brock? The questions multiplied in her mind and soon she was feeling dizzy and like she was the biggest idiot in the world.

Before she could convince herself it was a bad idea, and hopefully before Brock gave into BJ again, Reba snatched up the phone and quickly dialed the number she knew by heart. With her throat closing up, all of her senses honed in on the phone in her hand, listening intently for his voice. She would apologize and tell him that she loved him. She would beg him to come over, to forgive her, and swear that _she_ would make things up to him this time.

When she heard the sound of the phone being picked up, she quickly let out a sigh, realizing how worried she'd been over the thought that he might not answer her call. She opened her mouth to say his name, but froze when BJ's voice came on the line, her thoughts coming to a screeching halt.

"Reba! I've missed you so much and would love to talk, but I can't right now," the woman chattered in an excited voice, sounding like she was running around busily. "I'm just getting ready now. Brock's in the bathroom taking a shower and I can't decide what to wear for when he comes out. I can already picture the door opening and him stepping out in only a towel, steam all around him. Ooohhh, I just want to go in there and join him."

Reba remained frozen where she was, certain that she could feel her heart literally tearing in two. She didn't want to think about Brock in nothing more than a towel, going to Barbra Jean, who would be wearing a skimpy outfit that Reba herself could never pull off. But she especially didn't want to think about Barbra Jean joining Brock in the shower that she'd recently spent so much time with him in.

"What do you think I should wear, Reba? I've got a couple of skimpy, sexy little numbers that I know he'll like—I bought them just for this reason—but I don't know which one to wear!" Barbra Jean let out a frustrated sigh before suddenly giggling like a school girl about to neck with her boyfriend. Reba knew she was getting old just by that thought.

"Maybe I just won't wear anything at all!" she laughed before the sound was cut short. Her voice came back over the line, quiet and hushed. "The shower just turned off. I've got to go, but I'll come over in the morning to tell you all about tonight. I won't get into the gritty details, because I know that would be weird for you, but I'll tell you the romantic stuff. Alright, gotta go, bye! Love you, bestie!"

The dial tone sounded only a moment later and Reba sat there for another moment with the receiver pressed to her ear, everything she'd just heard sinking in. It seemed that she was too late. Brock was with Barbra Jean and was about to spend a long night making up with her.

As tears filled her eyes, Reba turned and pulled the top off the bottle beside her once more. She didn't even bother to pull out a shot glass from the drawer, but instead just her tipped her head back and pressed the bottle to her lips. She closed her eyes as the golden liquid burned its way down her throat…

Reba slowly opened her eyes, squinting into the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Her eyes landed on the whisky bottle before her, the golden liquid lower than it had been the night before. A full shot glass sat beside of it that she'd filled up last night, but had collapsed onto the bed in tears and then fallen asleep before she could drink it.

She'd expected to feel some effects of the drink, maybe a slight pounding in her head, but there was nothing. She was good at holding her liquor, didn't get hangovers often, and never forgot what happened when she'd been drinking, but she'd thought maybe she would feel something. Instead, she felt cold inside, an eerie silence inside her that she'd felt only one time before: when Brock had first left her and then cheated on her with Barbra Jean.

Pushing up from the bed, she sat there for a moment before grabbing the shot glass and throwing her head back. Waiting as warmth spread through her limbs and she began to wake up some. She got to her feet, moving to the bathroom to take care of her morning needs before simply standing in front of the mirror and staring at herself.

Her eyes remained red and a little puffy from the night before, lightly colored bags under her eyes from little sleep. But ultimately, she looked almost lifeless on the outside. But on the inside, that ice cold feeling was going away, replaced by the burning feeling of heartache. She fought to keep hold of that numbness, knowing it would help her get through the day, but she knew it would continue to slip from her grasp as they hours went by. She was just happy she had the day off today.

Splashing water on her face, running her hands through her hair, she did whatever she could think of to bring a little order to herself. It wasn't long before she gave up, satisfied by merely getting rid of the puffiness as her eyes slowly took on a less irritated look as the redness faded away. Her red hair was in a sort of order, looking only a little knotted, but no longer standing out as it had been.

Moving out of her room as she pulled her robe on, she listened to the sound of the kids moving about in the kitchen, wondering what Van had told them to explain her reason for staying in bed later than normal. She'd just moved off the bottom step when there came a knock on the door.

Tying her robe, she moved to stand before the wood and glass door without really looking outside to see who it was on her front porch. Flicking the lock, she pulled the door open only to stand perfectly still when she came face-to-face with the tall blonde that'd ruined her life again.

"Reba, don't say anything. Just let me do the talking," BJ started in a quiet voice, moving a little closer to her small friend. She looked at her with hurting eyes, an apologetic look on her face. "I never meant to hurt you. If I'd realized it, I wouldn't have done what I did. I would have stayed away so that you could be happy. I know this is a little awkward, but I just want you to know that I hope you two are very happy together and that you can forgive me for what I did last night. I still want to be a part of your lives, but not if it ruins what you have. You guys are my family, and I hope you can accept me again."

Reba blinked in confusion, not sure what to say or what exactly Barbra Jean was getting at.

BJ swiped tears from her eyes. "I'm going back to Little Rock for a while, but I hope you'll call me after you work everything out. I hope we can still be friends and that I can come back once everything settles down again."

"What are you talking about?" Reba finally got out, cringing a little at how gravelly her voice sounded, not only from just having woken up, but also from the shot of whisky she'd taken.

BJ moved forward another step, lowering her voice. "I'm talking about you and Brock. He told me about the two of you and that he still love you. I messed things up for you once, and I won't do it again," she promised, a determined look on her face. "You're my best friend, Reba, whether you feel the same or not, and I won't come between you and Brock again. I want you two to work it out, to forget that I came back and hurt you both, and then I'd like to really come back. Maybe I'll find my soul mate while I'm gone, or even when I get back. But Brock is yours and please don't torment him over what I did. He didn't do anything wrong and really does love you—and absolutely nothing happened last night over then the two of us talking everything out. I swear. Please give him another chance, because you two will be so happy together…again."

Before Reba could reply, Barbra Jean leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before hurrying away. She was in her car in no time, starting it up and driving off with only one last wave of her hand out the window.

Reba stared after her until the car had disappeared down the street. She merely continued to stand there in uncertainty, thinking everything through. Barbra Jean was going back to Little Rock. Brock was staying behind. BJ had even said she wanted Reba and Brock to be happy together, that she didn't want to hurt them, and that she wanted to come back when they worked their problems out so that they could all still be friends.

The question was: did Reba want the same thing?

Her heart hesitated, wanting to jump out of her chest from the joy of having Brock, but was too uncertain to do it. Those fears she'd had from before had come flooding back, had wove their way through her mind, and now she was swamped with the heartbreak and betrayal she'd experienced when this had all happened the first time and her marriage to Brock had fallen apart.

She wasn't certain things could work out between them. He'd betrayed her once, was it possible for him to keep from doing it again? If Barbra Jean came back into their lives, would he be able to keep from going to her should they have problems again like while they were separated?

She didn't know the answers to her questions and it was killing her inside. She wouldn't be able to handle dealing with that hurt all over again, not like before. It looked like she would just have to give Brock up if she wanted to avoid the searing pain she'd experienced years before. She would never find a love quite like what she had with him, the kind that endured virtually everything and lasted even when she wished it wouldn't, but that was something she was going to have to learn to live with.

She turned away from the door, listening as the kids all went out the pack and sighed with relief. She felt a little guilty for it, but she just didn't want to have to deal with their questions right now. She would handle all of that later…when she had more than just a shot of whisky running through her veins.

Rena slowly shook her head as she entered the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from what was left of the pot Van must have made. The night before was a reminder that she wasn't going to ignore. It had nearly killed her to lose Brock the first time, and she was certain that experiencing that same pain a second time really would be the end of her. Her heart couldn't take the torment again. No, it was better to let him go now, than after she was betrayed.

She wouldn't go through it again, despite Barbra Jean taking herself out of the picture. Brock might just find someone different if the blonde wasn't around to tempt him away herself.

Just then, the door opened and Brock stood there in her house. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink, which she assumed wasn't much better than herself.

"Good morning, neighbor," she said politely, not cheerful and yet not sounding depressed or rude. There just seemed to be nothing in her voice…no feeling at all.

"So why did you call last night? Barbra jean didn't remember to mention is until after we'd talked for a few hours, and I was tempted to come over here at three in the morning and demand you answer me, but didn't want to risk waking the kids up." He took a step inside, closing the door. "So I waited until I watched them pull away…and now I think I deserve an answer."

"Glad you didn't come over that late. Those kids are hard enough to deal with in the mornings, I can't imagine how it might have been if you'd been yelling in the middle of the night keeping them up," she replied, still without much feeling.

"So why'd you call, Reba?"

"Maybe it was just to check in and see how ya'll were doing. But don't worry, Barbra Jean let me know just how it was going. I don't need you to let me know."

"Not likely, and nothing happened. Why'd you really call?"

"What does it matter?" she sighed.

"It matters to me."

She let out another sigh, pushing away from the counter she'd been leaning against. She moved to the sink and rinsed her cup out, careful to go the long was around the island counter to avoid getting too close to him. "Go get your wife back, Brock."

He stepped closer, reaching out for her. "I'm trying to...but for some reason, she just won't let me."

She pushed his hands away gently. "Not me."

He gritted his teeth. "You're the wife that I want. Why do you have to be so bullheaded? I know things were going good between us, and you know that nothing happened between BJ and me last night. I slept on the couch—what little I could sleep. So why are you pushing me away?"

She shook her head and began washing the dishes.

"You know, you did this before too—when we were having problems the first time with our marriage. I tried to talk to you, but you just shut down on me." He stormed up to her side, glaring down at the top of her head even as she seemed to ignore him. "And when I was tired of trying to draw you out of your shell, then you wanted to talk. But by then it was already too late and I'd screwed everything up by what I did with Barbra Jean. Don't wait until it's too late this time, Reba. Don't let your bullheaded pride get in the way of our happiness together."

He hoped maybe he would make her mad, to draw her out of the shell she'd burrowed in, but it wasn't working. Instead, she merely began to wander around the kitchen with her wet rag, wiping down the counters and table.

He got nothing from her. She didn't appear to be upset about what he'd said to her. She just acted like nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened between them at all.

"Don't punish me, Reba. I've gone this whole time without once doing anything to make you think that I would cheat on you again. If anything, I've done my hardest to prove that it wouldn't happen."

"Yeah, well you went twenty years without cheating on me before or giving warning that it might happen."

Just a hint of bitterness in her voice before she got it under control. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but he would take it if it meant he was getting to her and pulling her out of that damn shell.

"Maybe it was already too late for us," she said before he could pick at her again. She picked up a few dishes from what had obviously been breakfast and carried them to the sink.

"I love you."

She sighed, stopping and closing her eyes for a moment before turning back to face him. "I've got stuff to do today, Brock."

He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. He would have argued with her, but he saw in her eyes that a little more life had come back to her—he'd found the words that got to her the most.

"Alright," he consented after a minute. "I'll give you some time…to think things through and come to your senses. I love you, Reba, and I want to keep holding on to you. I want you in my arms, forever. But I'll give you some time—just remember though; I'm not giving up on us. This time around, I'll prove that you're the woman I love, and I _will_ win you back. I swear I will."

She bit the inside of her lip, and he could see she was struggling with herself.

Taking advantage of the moment, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips against hers. She kissed him back instantly, but he knew victory wouldn't be his so soon. After a moment, she pushed him back, but he watched as she stepped away and clenched her fists, knowing she was trying to keep from pulling him back.

"I love you," he repeated, and she shuddered a little at his words.

With those parting words, he walked to the door and started out, but suddenly backed up with Cheyenne appeared with Elizabeth in her arms.

"Hey, Dad. Can you say hi to Grandpa?" she asked cheerfully, looking down at her daughter. When her gaze returned to Brock though, the smile slipped from her face at his tense yet pained expression. "What's wrong?"

"Your mother's being pigheaded, that's what." He kissed first her forehead and then leaned down to do the same to Elizabeth. He cast a quick look over his shoulder at Reba. "She can't see what's right in front of her."

Cheyenne watched as her father left the house, slamming the door behind him, before turning to look at her mother. "What was that all about?" she asked as she sat her daughter down.

"Nothing. How was taking the kids to school today? And Van's at work I trust, holding down the fort on my day off?"

"Fine and yes. That didn't seem like nothing though, Mom." She frowned. "And what was Dad doing here anyways? Shouldn't he be with Barbra Jean?"

Reba turned away from her daughter, pretending to busy herself with cleaning the stove so she wouldn't have to look at her. "Barbra Jean is already on her way back to Little Rock…she and your dad aren't going to be working things out after all."

Cheyenne was quiet for a long moment. "Okay," she finally said, not really sounding all that upset about it.

Reba turned back to her in surprise, watching as she picked a few grapes from a bowl and ate them slowly. This reaction from the girl who'd been so excited the night before at the thought of Brock and BJ working everything out? It just didn't seem right for her to not even seem to care when she found out nothing was going to happen.

"You're not upset?"

Cheyenne looked at her, obviously thinking about it. Finally, her shrugged and shook her head. "Dad really didn't seem all that eager to work things out last night…if anything, he seemed unhappy about the idea and a bit upset to see Barbra Jean. I don't know what you've done to help him these past months, but whatever it is has worked." She stopped picking at the bowl of grapes on the counter to look at her mom. "Speaking of which, what's up with you and Dad this morning? You guys had been getting along great lately, and now all of a sudden you're back to hating each other?"

"We don't hate each other, we just go into…an argument," she offered. It was close enough to the truth. Suddenly, there was a noise that sounded suspiciously like something falling over. "You may want to go find Elizabeth," she murmured, pointing into the living room.

She watched as Cheyenne hurried out of the room, conversation forgotten, and heaved out a sigh. She tossed the brillow pad into the sink as she thought about what all Brock has said.

She wanted to believe that he'd been telling the truth, but she couldn't get past the reminded of when they'd been married and he'd left her before. He may have sworn that nothing had happened between them when they'd been 'talking,' but he'd also sworn nothing was happening before when he'd been cheating on her—at least, not until Barbra Jean had wound up pregnant. She just didn't want to be in that position all over again.

Hours later, Reba sat on her bed with the phone in her hand. Brock had promised to give her some time to think, and that's exactly what she'd done. She'd put her hurt aside to think clearly, since he deserved that much at least.

What she'd come up with had made her ashamed of her behavior that morning. She knew that she should have trusted Brock. The man she'd been with through the last few months had been the man she'd loved and married so many years before, not the one who had left her for a younger woman.

She needed to give him a real chance to explain instead of just dismissing his words all together, as if they were lies simply because of the past. She needed to make things up with him, not drive him away. The love she had for him had never failed, never even faltered despite everything that had happened between them…didn't he at least deserve to know that much? If love was really worth it all, shouldn't she be going for it instead of hiding from it?

And she was in love with him. It didn't matter what she decided now, losing him was going to hurt either way. She'd missed him during the day, and it had made her realize just how much she wanted things to work out between them.

Holding the phone up, she quickly dialed his number and was just listening to the first ring when she heard something from outside.

Getting to her feet, she started toward the window when she realized that it was music just beginning. After a moment, someone began to sing in a voice that was off-key from years without practice. And, recognizing that voice, she hung up the phone to push the curtain out of the way, fighting a smile. There, standing in her year with a guitar in his hands, was Brock.

He was a bit rusty on the guitar too.

She hid a smile as she opened the window. He was singing their song, the one they'd danced to on their first date as well as their wedding.

"Shh!" she hushed him, leaning her head out the window. "Stop that caterwauling before you wake the whole neighborhood—or worse, the kids!"

"Let the neighborhood see!" he called back before continuing on with the song.

"What about the kids?"

"Them too!"

"Then stop before you have all the dogs in the neighborhood barking up your tree."

He stopped playing, casting a quick look around him as if to check for prowling canines ready to attack. He looked up at her with a frown. "You used to love my singing."

"You used to be good at it."

She laughed at the look on his face, and then motioned for him to go to the door. After closing the window, she hurried downstairs to open the door, grabbing him by the shirt to pull him inside.

"Get in here before someone comes after you—or worse, me."

"Am I that bad now, really?" he asked, setting his guitar aside.

She bit back a smile and closed the door, flicking the lock. "A little bit of practice and I'm sure you'll sound just as pretty as ever."

"Pretty?" he sputtered, but then let it go and waved the matter away. "Anyways, now that I have our attention—"

Reba cut him off by taking a hold of his head and pulling him down for a kiss. She took advantage of his surprise and slipped her tongue between his lips, drawing his tongue out to dance with hers.

His arms slowly went around her, tightening about her waist and keeping her held against him as if he thought her might change her mind and run away.

She dropped one hand to fist in the fabric of his shirt while the other slid up so she could run her fingers through his hair. She pressed closer to him, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. He gladly complied, and she moaned into his mouth in appreciation.

Brock backed her up against the door, holding her with his body so that his hands would be freed. Once they were no longer keeping her in place, his hands ran up her sides, causing her to gasp. He then stroked his fingers over the bottoms of her breasts until she growled into his mouth, encouraging him to continue until his hands lifted to cup her breasts.

The sound of a door opening upstairs broke the two apart. Before Reba knew what he was doing, Brock darted around the corner to hide in the downstairs bathroom, leaving her leaning against the door, out of breath with her chest heaving, and very alone.

She gained control of her ragged breathing, glancing up just as Van appeared on the steps, covering a wide yawn with the back of his hand. He frowned when he noticed her, slowing until he came to a stop after dropping off the bottom step. He looked around in confusion until his gaze settled on her again.

"Whatcha doing up so late, Mrs. H? Thought you'd be upstairs after our talk earlier…I told you, just give it some time and everything will be better in the morning." He frowned. "I know it didn't work out that way this morning really, but some morning it will. That might be next week, month, or year…but some morning."

She gave him a half smile and nodded. "Thanks, Van."

He arched one eyebrow and leaned a little closer. "Sounds like you've got a tickle in your throat. You said you didn't have very much last night…but have you been hitting the bottle tonight?" she asked in an even quieter voice, drawing her away from the stairs…and closer to the bathroom.

Reba shook her head and cleared her throat, hoping it didn't sound quite so husky and breathless. "No, Van. It's like you said, I have a tickle in my throat. I was just going to get a drink."

He looked towards the kitchen, then the door where she had been before finally turning back to her. "Then why were you leaning against the door?"

She swallowed hard and thought fast. "I heard something outside, so I was looking out there." That wasn't exactly a lie. "Then you came downstairs, and here we are." She was just leaving out a few details…

Her cheeks started to burn a little at that thought…

"You look about ready to have a coughing fit, Mrs. H. we'd best get you that drink now. I suggest a glass of cool water," he murmured with concern, drawing her into the kitchen. "I was just about to get one for myself anyways."

Brock listened form the bathroom where he was still hiding, frowning to himself. Reba had talked to Van? And she was drinking? When had all of that started happening, and what in the world was going on?

He waited until he heard the two say goodnight and Van returned upstairs. When Reba called for him quietly, he slipped back into the living room where she was waiting.

"What was that all about?" she asked when he walked back in to stand beside her. "You didn't have to hide…we could have easily explained why you might be here."

He shook his head slowly. "I just flashed back to when we were dating and made a break for it…you know, when I'd be sneaking past JV to see you. He may have always liked me, but there were a few times when I don't think he'd have been happy to see me going to see you. So anyways, you're talking to Van about your personal life now?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "After what he witnessed last night, he deserved an explanation. And today he was just concerned about me and wanted to know it I was alright."

"Well, I did try to get him to leave last night, but as I recall it was you who kept him there."

"Are we really going to talk about this right now?" she asked with a sigh.

He paused for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. When talking about last night, I think there are more important things we should be discussing."

She held her hand up when he went to say something else. "I'm sorry." She lowered her hand when his mouth snapped closed. "I should have believed you…it's just that everything about it reminded me so much of before, and I felt like I was going through out separation and divorce all over again. And then when Barbra Jean answered the phone, and what she said…"

"Hey," he murmured, stepping forward to lift her chin up when her eyes closed and her head dropped. "I promise you, that will never happen again. I was an idiot then; I'm not the same man you knew then…I'm the man you married and blessed with twenty wonderful years of marriage and three beautiful children. And if you give me another chance, I swear that I will never throw away any of this ever again."

"I know," she whispered, tears in her voice. "I love you, Brock…I always have. Through it all, I never stopped loving you and I never will."

His face lit up with a smile. "I love you too, sweetheart. He leaned down to give her a slow, tender kiss, communicating all his love for her through it.

When he pulled back, he settled his arms loosely around her waist while her head came to rest on his chest, both satisfied to just hold one another for the moment.

He rubbed her back soothingly before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I guess I should get going…before someone else wakes up and actually sees me this time."

A slow smile spread across her lips. "Well then, follow me…I can guarantee that they won't see you," she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the steps.

Brock's eyes widened and he, again, flashed back to when they were dating for a moment. He gave a gentle hug on her hand as they moved up the stairs, just enough to gain her attention. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he sent her a look that stated just how confused he was. "What if one of the kids has a nightmare and wants to sleep with you tonight?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Brock, our children are growing up. Besides, do you even realize how many years it's been since even Jake did that? The last time they came to my room was back when Elizabeth was just born, and there was a really bad storm outside. It's not going to happen tonight—clear skies all night long."

"But what if it does happen?" he asked in a quiet voice even as they reached the top of the stairs.

"That's what the lock on the door is for then, Brock," she replied, glancing around the corner and into the hallway, checking to make sure all the doors were closed but hers.

When he didn't make a move still, she turned back to look at him. She stared into his doubting eyes for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing him, not having to stretch since she was standing on the step above him.

"What if they hear something?" he asked gruffly when she pulled away.

A sly smile curled her lips. "Be quiet then," she whispered.

Giggling like a teenager sneaking her boyfriend past her sleeping parents and into her bedroom past curfew, Reba quickly pulled Brock past the closed doors and into the bedroom that they'd shared throughout their marriage.

As soon as he door closed, Brock had her pressed tight against it, continuing where they'd left off before Van had interrupted them. She didn't allow him much of that though before pulling at his clothes and stringing them on the floor. When they were both completely naked, she grinned at him and edged him backwards, one final push sending him falling onto the bed.

She slowly crawled up his body, accepting him into her body as he enjoyed the view. She bit her bottom lip as she rocked; her hands braced on his chest as he cupped her breasts and toyed with her nipples. She tried to remain quiet, but moans slipped through her lips.

Brock didn't mind though…instead, her enjoyment seemed to egg him on, and soon his hands were on her hips, helping her as her body grew tense.

Recognizing the sighs her body gave away, he suddenly sat up and pulled her against his chest, kissing her and swallowing her cry as her release washed over her, quickly followed by his own.

They collapsed on the bed for several minutes before crawling up to the pillows and curling into one another, their hands soon roaming once more…

Reba stretched out in bed, smiling to herself when Brock's arms tightened around her. She snuggled down into his embrace, but let out a quiet groan instead when she noticed what time it was. While she, again, had taken the day off of a short vacation, if she didn't head downstairs soon to get started on breakfast, the kids would come looking for her to see if she was alright…unless Van could hold them off, which she wasn't certain he could do two days in a row.

Casting a longing look over her shoulder at Brock's calm, sleeping face; she slipped from his arms and pressed a pillow against his chest in her place. His arms wrapped around it, but the slight frown on his face told her it wasn't the same and she knew it wouldn't hold him long. Even in his sleep, he'd always known when she wasn't there anymore.

She quickly went to the bathroom, and then pulled her pajamas on, careful to keep quiet so she wouldn't' wake him. She tied her robe around her as she slipped from the room and closed the door behind her, hoping that the kids wouldn't try and go into her room for something. That would be all she'd need, for one of them to see Brock, naked, in her bed.

"Good morning," she said with a smile as she walked into the kitchen where her children sat at the table, talking amongst themselves. She pulled out everything she would need to make pancakes, humming happily as she went.

After several seconds of silence from behind her, Cheyenne's voice came quietly, slowly. "Mom?"

"What's up, buttercup?" she asked with a smile, laughing a little as she turned around to look at her eldest daughter. Her children were all wearing concerned expressions on their faces as she mixed up the batter.

"Is everything alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" she asked, then laughed lightly again. "Why do you ask?" She'd never felt so young, so alive…of course, everything was perfect now. She had her kids, her dream house, a job that she loved…and the Brock she'd fallen in love with and married.

"Well, it's just…" Cheyenne trailed off.

"You're happy," Jake said, as if it explained everything.

"Jake!" his sisters cried out, looking over at him with wide eyes.

Van gave an awkward laugh. "What are you going to do? You know how it is Mrs. H…kids say the darndest things…" He wandered over behind Jake and gave the back of his head a quick smack. "Shut it!" he whispered.

Reba just laughed. "Is there a reason that I shouldn't be happy?" she asked lightheartedly.

"Of course now, Mom," Cheyenne replied quickly with a light smile before turning a glare on her brother, motioning for him to be quiet.

The kids all grew quieter then, talking to one another—and mostly chastising Jake—as Reba went back to cooking with a skip in her step that none of them could help but noticing. They grew even quieter when she dished out the food, quickly downing what was in front of them as they noticed what time it was. Jake and Kyra would be off to their schools, Van to work, and Cheyenne had a 'Mommy-and-Me' class scheduled with Elizabeth, and was taking Henry with her.

Once they were all finished and had their things gathered up, Van noticed that Reba hadn't eaten anything yet.

Frowning, he moved to her side. "Is everything alright now with you-know-who?" he asked quietly, hoping the others wouldn't overhear and ask what he meant.

Just then, they all heard something in the living room and turned to look. Since they were all in the kitchen, and the front door hadn't opened, they weren't sure what or who it might be…and they certainly weren't expecting Brock to walk in the kitchen, coming from upstairs obviously.

Four jaws dropped and eight eyes suddenly went wide.

Van gave the same laugh from before, looking around like he wasn't sure what to think. "Wh-where did you come from Mr. H?"

"Dad?" the others gasped, glancing over at their mother.

"Relax kids," he murmured, holding up a hand as if to ward them off. He leaned against the counter a few feet down from where Reba stood; dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before.

"There's a simple explanation for why your father's here," Reba began.

"Alright, we're listening," Kyra replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced suspiciously between her parents.

Brock braced his hands of the island counter before him, leaning forward to look across at the kids. "Look, Barbra Jean and I won't be getting back together. She left for Little Rock yesterday morning—but she likely will come back eventually. We're just going to be friends, nothing more. A lot's changed since she's been gone…I've changed." He looked at Reba. "For the better." He quickly returned his attention to the kids. "Anyways, I came over last night to talk to your mother about it, and we ended up just falling asleep."

"Why'd you come to talk to Mom?" Jake asked with a frown.

Brock looked over at the redhead in question. "Because son…your mother is my best friend."

Reba cleared her throat when all eye turned to her. "And you're father's mine. Now," she began, hoping they would let it go for now, "get going or you'll all be let for all your stuff this morning. School, Work, Mommy-and-Me," she said, pointing at them all. "Move it!"

She ushered them all outside, waving their would-be questions away before they even got the chance to ask them. "Hush, we'll all talk later," she exclaimed when they still hesitated.

Once they'd all left the house, pulling the door closed behind them, Brock moved up behind Reba and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You know they suspect something now, right?" he whispered in her ear.

She chuckled, dishing the remaining pancakes out onto two plates. "Well, they wouldn't if you'd have just stayed upstairs until after they'd left."

He shrugged, dropping his head to run his lips over her neck in a series of soft kisses. "It'll give them something to think about until tonight when we really do tell them about us. Besides, I woke up and you were gone. I had to come look for you…just to make sure you hadn't changed your mind and run off or something."

She tipped her head back to give him better access to her neck, her eyes slipping closed. "Never. You won't get rid of me that easily."

He chuckled against her skin, pulling on the loose knot holding her robe tied and allowing the thin fabric to fall open. He slipped his hands inside to cup her breasts, squeezing and caressing them gently until she moaned softly.

The door suddenly opened and they broke apart, Brock stepping away from Reba as she quickly pulled her robe closed.

Van stopped, watching them in silence for a moment. He pursed his lips, then walked to the table, grabbing up the lunch that he'd obviously forgotten. He stopped with his hand on the knob, leaning back in to look at them. "You may want to get a glass of water, Mrs. H."

"Why?" she asked after blinking in confusion several times.

"By the look on your face, you've got that tickle in your throat again." He laughed, pulling the door closed behind him when her jaw dropped. When he opened the door again, she was covering her face with one hand while Brock chuckled behind her, moving forward to settle his arms around her waist once more.

"I was right though."

She glanced at him from behind her fingers. "Right about what?" she asked cautiously.

"I told you that everything would be better in the morning. I was off about which morning, but I was right that it would be better."

She smiled and lowered her hand, settling her hand over Brock's. "Yes, you were right about that."

"See ya, Mr. and Mrs. H."

They watched him leave and then Brock pressed a kiss to the place just behind her ear, smiling when she shivered against him.

"I made pancakes."

"Mmhmm,' he murmured, his lips returning to her neck. "I see."

"Did you?"

He lifted his head to cast a quick, uninterested look at the plates. "Yep." He went back to feast on her neck, untying her robe again.

"Don't you want any?" she asked, starting to sound breathless.

"Pancakes can be reheated," he replied, his hands returning to her breasts. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

**I tried uploading this story this morning before I went to bed (working midnights), but my compter is acting up...I got the blue screen of death. So I'm borrowing someone else's computer to do this...otherwise, you'd have been able to read this hours upon hours ago.**

** Leave me a review to let me know what you think...how this was and if you think I should do part 3 (genres for it will be romance/humor).**

**DT**


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